Reconciliation (1)

I couldn't move so much as an inch.

When he wrapped me up in his arms, it wasn't that his shoulders were all that broad or his frame all that big — but his grip was Herculean, and my movements were completely sealed off.

Feeling him out now, his chest muscles weren't even particularly firm.

So the so-called Former Hero just lazes around without exercising at all, huh.

And then there was that sniveling voice layered on top of it all, draining away every last shred of the minimal masculinity this goddamn fruit still had left in him.

"I won't go. I'll never leave again. Never agaaaain······."

Not like there was any affection there to lose in the first place.

All I felt was pity.

I wondered what on earth could have happened to make him throw this kind of hysterical fit over a single word — leave.

The way he trembled despite those iron arms of his, the way his terror-stricken whimpering was oddly pitiable.

How should I put it.

That I wanted to stroke his head and comfort him?

Ugh. The problem was, with a man as the other party, that sounded exactly like something a gay man would say.

"Hnngh. Hah. Ah."

"Back with us yet, you fruitcake?"

"······."

His trembling stopped.

Leopard held me for a moment, frozen stiff, then suddenly jerked his arms loose and stumbled backward. His face had flared up crimson, and apparently still failing to process the situation, he kept darting his eyes around.

"I— what did I just, do?"

"What did you do? You whined like a little girl. Don't you remember? Want me to recite everything you said, line by line?"

"No······."

He finally turned his back on me. His face had gone red all the way to the tips of his ears, and he looked profoundly, achingly embarrassed.

I'd finally gotten a weakness on him.

Well, calling it a weakness was a stretch, but······.

He took a long series of deep breaths, then turned back around with his usual hardened expression and said:

"Forget what you just saw and heard."

"With just my word?"

"Why. Want me to kiss it better?"

"Wh—what the hell! Eww!"

He lunged forward out of nowhere, shoving his face right up at mine, and I nearly shrieked. Startled, I stumbled backward in retreat, and he snickered at the sight of me.

Apparently his embarrassment had worn off in the meantime.

Infuriating bastard.

I'd changed my mind.

It would be far better if this bastard died rather than just left the city.

Leopard, the smile swallowed up again, asked with a rather serious expression.

"Ariel."

"Don't know anyone by that name."

"Yulia."

"What."

"You — you really don't have your old memories? If not, then where exactly does the blank start?"

It was a question I couldn't easily answer.

The more I said about my own memories, the more my hand would show.

Of course, this man wasn't the type to give up and back off just because I dodged. I judged it would be better for my own safety to answer cleanly here.

"That's something I······ don't really know either······."

"I see. Then that's enough."

"Huh······?"

He waved a careless hand, turned, and simply walked away.

Watching that retreating figure, all I could manage was a sigh. Dragging me out here at will, saying only what he wanted, then vanishing — that bastard.

If the Hero who saved the world were an acquaintance of mine, my life ought to be riding high. So why was mine nothing but a tangle of knots?

'It's complete shit, which is exactly why I'm going to succeed. I swear it.'

Whether I had to learn magic or do something else entirely, I would claw my way to a position no one could touch. A seat where no one could ever shriek at me, calling me a bitch whose maidenhood was stolen by a Dragon. And when I got there, the first thing I'd do is grab that Hero who kept messing with me and beat him to a pulp.

I ground my teeth and resolved on it once more.

"Huh?"

When I returned to the chapel room, it was completely empty, not a soul inside. I glanced around for a moment — and then a nun came drifting slowly toward me, startling me so badly I flinched.

She was the nun who had called me a disgusting bitch on my first day in this city.

Up close, I was terrified she might see through me, and my eyes fled before I could stop them.

"Miss Yulia. Right?"

"······?!"

I nearly collapsed on the spot. Even now, the thing that frightened me most was a stranger calling Yulia's name. Every time my name reached me in an unfamiliar voice, those spine-chilling stares from the burning village that day came flooding back······.

"Y-yes? H-how did you know?"

"One of your companions left word earlier. She said she took your daughter out for some snacks, and to come to the plaza."

"Ah. Ahh — a message, I see······. Thank you."

I heaved out a long breath of relief, then had a hell of a time suppressing the heartbeat that had been ricocheting around my chest like a madman.

So she hadn't recognized me after all.

At this point, was it even paranoia anymore?

I was starting to worry about my own mental state. Maybe I should have a counseling session with Irina.

'That hag's mental state wasn't exactly normal either, mind you.'

I decided to just give up on the idea. Every now and then I'd catch her in the back room, sobbing while calling her kids' names. Irina was hardly in any position to counsel anyone.

That aside — why did she have to take someone else's child out snacking when she could've just sat quietly in the chapel? I worried Tia would pick up bad habits. Let her taste street food once and she'd lose her mind over it. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠What if she later refused to eat the meals I cooked for her?

"Hmm······."

I stepped out of the church and headed for the plaza nearby.

Even though it was Sunday, plenty ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of people had set up their stalls and started selling from morning on. Simply pushing through the thick crowd was a trial in itself. Every few steps forward meant bumping into someone again and again.

Maybe it was because my body was rather unusually large, front and back.

"Found you."

At last I spotted Tia.

She was sitting on a bench, demolishing some kind of sauce-glazed skewer, her whole mouth smeared with seasoning.

So she's discovered that flavor now, has she. Imagining her throwing a tantrum demanding skewers every time we passed a stall from now on made my head swim.

I resented Irina.

"Ti······!"

I opened my mouth to call out to her at full volume — and clapped my own hand over it. For a split second, the thought had seized me: what if I shouted her name and everyone around recognized me? If they laughed, saying what's a tavern hostess doing with celebrity delusions, I'd have no comeback. But I couldn't help it. This wasn't something my will could control······.

My ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠voice simply wouldn't come, as if my vocal cords had frozen solid. I felt utterly pathetic, but for now I decided to take deep breaths and calm myself.

Time solves everything.

Clutching that belief firmly, I circled around behind Tia and approached slowly. I planned to startle her while she was gnawing away at her skewer in a trance.

Creeping quietly from behind, meaning to surprise Tia as she diligently devoured her skewer —

But Irina, seated beside her, had her head bowed and wasn't moving at all.

Was she dozing off?

"Mma! Mama!"

"Ah······."

Before I'd even gotten within ten meters, Tia whipped her head around and I was caught red-handed. Seeing her grin sheepishly with sauce smeared all over her mouth, a smile rose to my face on its own. No matter how much of a nuisance she was, every time I looked at her she was so cute it lifted my mood.

If only she'd stay this size forever.

I worried she'd grow a big head and start giving me lip — Mom, you're so annoying — I'd gutted my own mother's heart exactly like that back in my adolescence, which was precisely why it worried me.

"Did Irina unnie buy that for you?"

"Mm! 'S deliciouth! Mama, you hab thome!"

"No thanks, that's all yours. More importantly, how'd you get so much mess all over your······."

"Mmmmm······."

I tried to wipe the red sauce from around her mouth and gave up. There was far too much of it; I'd need a handkerchief. I sucked the sauce off my finger — it was fairly, no, very spicy.

She was eating something this hot without blinking an eye?

I was a little stunned.

"Irina. How could you buy something this spicy for Tia. Well, it's lucky she's eating it fine, but— Irina. Irina?"

"······."

When I shook her shoulder to wake her, Irina's body lolled sideways. Right up until then, I'd assumed she was just sleeping off her exhaustion. But only after I caught her by the waist and checked her color did I realize it.

There was something clearly, unmistakably wrong with Irina.

"Huh? Irina. You okay? Are you sick somewhere?"

"Hii. Hik. Hiiih······."

Her breathing was strange. Less like breathing, more like air hissing out through her throat. And her face was ashen, her lips tinged blue. When I brushed back her bangs and pressed my forehead to hers, a scorching fever raged beneath.

She wouldn't come to no matter how much I called her name and shook her — she was clearly in serious condition.

Asthma? No. Then a cold, or influenza? No, that wasn't it either. Just this morning Irina had no fever at all.

Then what on earth······.

"Oh."

My eyes met Tia's, head tilted with an enigmatic expression as she watched us. In that instant, a sense of dread slithered in, and I swiftly examined Irina's index finger.

A trace of red sauce lingered there. And there were also the marks of a finger sucked clean by her lips.

Instantly, in my head, the scene from moments ago unspooled like a recording. Irina, just as I had done, had wiped Tia's mouth clean and eaten the sauce off her finger.

And then I remembered a fact I'd briefly forgotten.

Tia's bodily fluids were a deadly poison.

A poison potent enough to neutralize a Saintess's regeneration. So what would happen if an ordinary person ingested even the tiniest trace of it?

Obvious.

She'd waste away just like Irina was now, dying fast.

"Excuse me······!"

I tried to scream for help. I truly did. I tried.

But even in this desperate crisis, my worthless, traitorous throat was clamped shut and produced nothing at all. With words impossible, I had no choice but to grab passersby at random and point at Irina.

But to my mute, croaking gasps, no one paid the slightest attention.

I gave up and checked Irina's condition once more.

"N—no······ no, no······."

Irina was dying.

Because of my broken-ass panic disorder.

With no way to save her coming to mind, I could only writhe in anguish. Then, far across the plaza, I saw the church's cross catching the light.

A priest of the church would be able to cast recovery magic, however clumsily. I had to carry Irina to the church.

"Hnngh!"

But I failed again and again, nothing but dumping Irina back onto the ground. For a moment, I thought about asking Tia for help — but no matter how strong that tiny thing was, there was no way she could lift Irina. I strained and heaved with everything I had one more time, and lifting Irina was simply impossible. It got to the point where I wondered if I should just drag her along the ground.

But if I did that, by the time we arrived, Irina would likely already be a cold corpse.

Even in that moment, Irina's forehead was growing hotter and hotter. I was terrified — she really was about to die.

And that fear spun my mind at lightning speed.

And just like that, I found the way to save her.

"Ah— ugh······."

I bit straight into my lip until it split and bled.

Tia's bodily fluids were a deadly poison. Which meant, by my guess, that the bodily fluids of someone with infinite regeneration — mine — might work in reverse, as a restorative.

There was no time for hesitation.

I tilted my head and pressed my bleeding lips over Irina's. Blood trickled down into her mouth, and I watched her throat bob as she swallowed.

I didn't have to wait long.

The moment I lifted my head, still gripping Irina's hand tight, the change was visible starting from her very complexion. When I pressed my palm to her forehead, her fever was already falling fast. Soon her ragged breathing steadied, and she opened her eyes and looked up at me.

"Haaaah······."

She was going to live.

The instant my eyes met Irina's, relief spilled out of me as laughter. But once the tension drained away, the things I'd shoved aside came flooding back.

Before I knew it, I was on my feet, walking toward Tia, who still sat on the bench staring blankly at the two of us.

"Because of you······!"

A shout louder than anything I'd ever mustered burst from my throat. When I came to my senses, my hand was clutching the collar of Tia's clothes, right at her neck. Startled, she dropped the half-eaten skewer from her hand to the ground.

Tia still wore that face of pure incomprehension.

You wouldn't know, would you.

That you just nearly killed a person. That without ever knowing it, you nearly turned a mother of two into a cold corpse.

It was the first time that vacant, innocent stare of yours — that know-nothing look — had ever looked irritating to me.

Tia's face began to crumple.

"I'm— I'm sorry······. Sniff. Hk. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I'm thorry······."

Tears began pouring from Tia's eyes. And then she apologized and apologized, over and over — sorry, so sorry — without even knowing what she was sorry for.

The strength drained right out of my grip.

"Ah······."

"I'm thorry! I'm thorry, Mama! Tia ith thorryyyy······."

Only then did I understand what I had just done.

I wanted to die.